Is lunch better taken beneath the golden leaves of a tree in the open air, or inside a dining hall filled with friendly faces? The answer all depends on the season.
Does anything say “college life” more than an afternoon nap in the sunshine beneath autumn foliage?
As a child, I dreamed of flying over my home town—viewing all of the familiar paths from high above. Visiting that town last weekend, I was able to photographically make that dream a reality. The forests where I hiked and the town ski jump are all laid out before the drone’s lens.
Roots draped elegantly over rocks beside a burbling brook create the more-naturally-occurring equivalent of a Japanese garden.
Autumn may not be peak tourist season in Prague, but the remaining foliage makes for an effective supplement to the red and white that otherwise dominate the city’s color palette.
Bob-Ross-ian “happy little trees” may look their best in autumn, but I’m not sure they’re at their happiest while heading into dormancy.
A consistent theme in my posts over the past few weeks has been “reflection,” raising the question: Am I feeling particularly introspective, or have I just been finding great views with water ?
In the depths of the humid dog days of summer, I already feel myself cooling off from a reminder of the crisp afternoons of fall.
Winter grays have locked down the North Country, but my photographs still contain the memories of a gorgeous fall. Now if only the polished, crystalline, snowy winter would arrive; I’m done with stick season.
Each tree in the canopy is roughly rotationally symmetrical, resulting in an anisotropic pattern. The sunlight breaks the symmetry and produces this beautiful streak of bright, cadmic yellow.
Even as deciduous trees enter their period of dormancy, a bright blue river winding its way through a wetland area can’t help but look rich and fertile. Just down stream, Lampson Falls change things up a bit.
Above a northern forest in the fall, the burst of foliage almost becomes an abstract explosion. Winding down on the forest floor is a neatly groomed path, adding just a tiny extra hint of possibility.
Autumn is my favorite season for flying above the North Country. Heading back toward New York, there’s a lot to look forward to with the shift in the seasons.
Berkeley’s seasons are a weird, fractured, microcrystalline version of their East Coast equivalents. There’s a nice congruence between the variable season a given tree might be experiencing and the variable model year any street-parked vehicle might be representing. Having autumn foliage gently localized around this classic (if oxidized) VW Microbus makes for a delightful combination.